Chapter Text

Act I: He who appears in red (the hunt begins)

Long ago, before tarmac roads carved their scars across the kingdoms and before mankind forgot how to listen to the voices hidden within the forests, there lived a wolf whom everyone believed was destined for tragedy.

It was a tale retold countless times, passed from generation to generation. A story older than kings and crowns, a hallmark quest for the hunters and the guilds they founded. A prophecy that held more age than perhaps the forest itself.

One day, a wolf would devour Red Riding Hood. And a hunter, noble and fearless, would arrive to split the beast open and rescue the child from its belly.

Every village child near the forest knew the tale. Mothers whispered it beside hearthfires while the wind rattled the shutters. Hunters recited it over cups of ale as though it were gospel. And wolves, those who dwelled beneath moonlight and among ancient trees, spoke of it with equal parts fear and reverence.

For the chosen wolf would become the Bearer of Prophecy, king of all beasts and ruler of the world. And for this sin, he would be slain.

Geonwoo the Wolf thought the entire arrangement sounded terribly unpleasant.

For one, he did not particularly enjoy hurting things. For another, people had feelings, and he thought it rather rude to eat someone who undoubtedly had friends and hobbies and dreams of their own. 

Most importantly, however, Geonwoo was quite fond of being alive and would very much prefer to remain that way. All in all, he considered these to be perfectly reasonable objections to becoming the foretold wolf.

Unfortunately, fate had always possessed a rather questionable sense of humour.

The Orange Woods stretched wide across the eastern valleys, where sunlight filtered through silver birch and fields of wildflowers swayed beneath warm breezes. The forest was ancient and strange, brimming with life yet peaceful, inhabited by creatures both ordinary and magical.

And at the heart of it lived the least fearsome beast fate could have chosen.

Geonwoo was magnificent to look upon.

His fur was white as fresh snowfall, thick and soft enough that birds occasionally mistook him for a cloud and attempted to build nests upon him. An enormous stature, large enough that most humans would cower at the mere sight of him. Golden eyes shone brightly beneath fluffy ears, and his teeth, sharp and gleaming as they were, could crush bone with frightening ease.

But the wolf did not live for his awe-inspiring visage.

You see, Geonwoo was rather well-known as a pacifist idiot. Not a bloodthirsty monster or battle-hungry savage, mind you, but rather a gentle giant of sorts.

At this very moment, the fearsome Beast of the Prophecy was sitting in the middle of a clover field with several bluebirds perched upon his head, painstakingly weaving daisies and forget-me-nots into a flower crown.

"No, no, this one's crooked."

His tongue poked out in concentration as he tilted his head and adjusted the stem between his claws. He attended to his task with all the seriousness of a master craftsman.

Nearby, a duck loudly called out to him.

"I know, Wooje."

The duck quacked again, sounding distinctly offended.

Wooje was, by all accounts, an ordinary white duck, if one were willing to ignore the thunderbolt-shaped scar upon his forehead and the tiny pair of dainty spectacles balanced neatly atop his beak. 

He was also one of the most judgmental creatures Geonwoo had ever met.

"I'm fixing it!" Geonwoo protested. "And how dare you judge my flower crowns? You don't have fingers either!"

Wooje quacked in mock outrage, wagging his butt at him. Pheh.

Across from them, half-submerged in a pond with only his nose and ears visible above the water, an enormous capybara blinked languidly.

Hwanjoong possessed the sort of endless patience one could only acquire through existing as a capybara. Nothing seemed capable of disturbing his peace. Floods, thunderstorms, and Geonwoo's endless anxieties alike were all met with the same calm expression.

"You've been working on that crown for an hour," he observed mildly, his whiskers twitching.

"It needs to be perfect."

"For who?"

Geonwoo froze.

His ears twitched. His tail thumped once against the grass.

"For…No one."

Wooje quacked once more, though this time it sounded less like outrage and more like a deeply resigned sigh.

"Okay, maybe me."

Another judgmental quack. Geonwoo groaned in response.

"You know what I mean!"

The duck and the capybara stared down the fidgeting wolf.

"Fine," he muttered. "Maybe for somebody someday."

"There we are," Hwanjoong said, smiling. Geonwoo huffed dramatically.

The truth was, while others spoke of destiny and glory and conquest, Geonwoo spent his days bargaining tree nuts with squirrels, helping rabbits dig out new burrows for their dens, and trying - and failing - to memorise which flowers preferred sunlight and which preferred shade. For all the terror inspired by his size and reputation, he was a rather harmless apex predator.

And vegetarian, at that!

Most of all, however, he worried about the prophecy. Because one day, Red Riding Hood would come.

And then? Well, everyone expected him to eat the poor child, but Geonwoo didn't want to eat anybody. Especially not children, the small beings who kept crying.

(Adults probably cried too, but he was making a point. This entire affair just sounded awful.)

"I wish destiny would pick someone else," he sighed.

Wooje quacked.

"No, I don't want to become a rabbit either," Geonwoo replied immediately. "Obviously rabbits have problems too. Just not the being-slain-by-hunters side."

Hwanjoong chuckled softly.

"You know, Geonwoo, perhaps fate made a mistake."

The wolf brightened immediately.

"You think so?"

"I think fate has terrible taste," Hwanjoong said solemnly. "Surely they meant to choose a more handsome wolf."

Geonwoo gasped.

"’Wanjoongie! How dare you!"

Tail wagging furiously, he launched himself forward.

Wooje let out an indignant squawk and took flight. Hwanjoong chortled in alarm.

And the gigantic wolf crashed face-first into a pile of leaves with enough force to send flower petals, bluebirds, and one exceedingly offended duck scattering into the air.

"Geonwoo!"

"I'm okay!"

And beneath the golden afternoon sun, amidst the chattering birds and swaying wildflowers, it was difficult to imagine that this fluffy fool with petals stuck in his ears and leaves tangled in his fur was the same beast the world had prophesied would one day hunt down the beloved Red Riding Hood.

Elsewhere, at the edge of the Pale Woods, a young man clad in crimson was loading bullets.

His garb was not the bright scarlet of children's storybooks, but a deep burgundy leather reinforced with buckles and straps. A hooded cloak rested across his shoulders, its dark red fabric stirring softly in the afternoon breeze, while belts crossed his torso and waist, each one fitted with ammunition, throwing knives, and various tools arranged with practiced precision.

Twin pistols rested comfortably at his hips.

He looked dangerous and clearly by design, for most people left dangerous things alone.

Lee Minhyung preferred it that way.

In truth, he had spent years cultivating that reputation. The confident cock of his hips, the weapons, the bluster - they all served their purpose in establishing him as a hunter.

Only the basket hanging from his arm seemed strangely out of place amidst the arsenal. Nestled inside were jars of honey, medicinal herbs wrapped in cloth, and a loaf of bread from the village bakery.

His destination lay deeper within the forest, where a cottage sat hidden amongst ancient birch trees. The dwellings of his grandmother, though not by blood.

But blood had never mattered much to either of them.

Years ago, Lee Sanghyeok had been known across the kingdoms as Faker, the greatest hunter to ever live and the founder of the Hunter's Association itself. Tales of his exploits were recited in taverns and training halls alike. Men twice his size had followed him into battle, and monsters whose names had become legends had fallen beneath his blade.

Now retired, the renowned hunter preferred afternoons spent reading books with a cup of tea in hand.

At least, that was what he claimed. 

Minhyung knew better.

He was fairly certain Sanghyeok kept enough hidden weapons around the cottage to wage a small war. There were knives hidden beneath floorboards, crossbows disguised as coat racks, and Minhyung remained convinced there was at least one vorpal sword concealed somewhere.

One could never be too certain with Sanghyeok. After all, it had been Sanghyeok who had raised and trained him. Not merely because he wished for a grandson to protect himself, but because of the prophecy.

One day, Red Riding Hood would meet the wolf. And when that day came, Minhyung would lose his life to this savage beast.  That much was written in stone.

No matter how skilled he became, no matter how many weapons he mastered, no matter how many years he spent training beneath the greatest hunter in history, the stories all ended the same way.

Red Riding Hood would be devoured, and the hunter would arrive too late.

And yet, when he was despondent about fate, Sanghyeok had took him in and taught him anyway. His reasoning was that to change fate, the first step was to grant him a fighting chance against it.

And Lee Minhyung was a man who sought to win.

"You don't need all those guns, Minhyung."

He could practically hear Sanghyeok's voice already, accompanied by that patented look of gentle disapproval over the rim of his teacup. Minhyung snorted softly.

"That's exactly what someone with hidden knives in the teapot would say." He murmured to himself.

Adjusting the pistols at his waist, he pulled the crimson hood over his head and continued down the winding forest path.

Sunlight filtered through the silver birches overhead, casting the ground in gold and green. Somewhere in the distance, birds sang their afternoon songs, and the scent of pine and wildflowers drifted through the breeze.

The scenery was serene and peaceful. Beautiful, even if one did not know the truth. That somewhere deeper within those woods lived a wolf by prophecy. And that fate had already begun nudging them toward one another.

By late afternoon, Geonwoo had settled beside a crystal stream, happily threading together another flower crown beneath the glow of the setting sun, when something in the breeze made him freeze.

The scent did not belong to any animal.

Ordinarily, that alone would have been enough to send Geonwoo scurrying in the opposite direction.  Humans were loud, strange creatures that often carried sharp things and tended to panic whenever they saw someone with four paws and too many teeth. 

But beneath the scent of soap and bread and wild herbs lingered another smell that was far less comforting - a mix of the bitter tang of gunpowder, leather worn smooth by long use, and cold iron polished to perfection.

Danger.

His golden eyes widened at once. Fluffy ears snapped upright, as the paws that clutched the flower crown began to tremble.

And then he heard footsteps, in a rhythm that was measured and unhurried. Far from the uncertain gait of a traveller lost in unfamiliar woods, it was the tread of someone confident in their ability to survive whatever awaited them.

A human had intruded upon this forest, and Geonwoo did not need much to know which character of his prophecy had made their grand entrance.

Unable to resist his curiosity - and perhaps against his better judgement - Geonwoo peeked around the trunk of a birch tree.

He promptly forgot how to breathe. The figure emerging through the woods was a vision of nightmares.

A crimson hood framed a handsome face and intent eyes, while deep burgundy leather hugged his frame beneath belts and silver buckles laden with knives and ammunition. Twin pistols rested comfortably at his hips, as though they belonged there as naturally as claws belonged to a wolf. He carried himself well, every movement smooth and practiced, and for moment Geonwoo could think only-

The Hunter.

Geonwoo nearly fainted.

Oh no. Oh no! The hunter was early. Had the prophecy skipped several chapters? Red Riding Hood was nowhere in sight, and yet his doomsday had arrived without warning.

And yes, the hunter was handsome, which somehow made everything infinitely worse.

The man turned. Their eyes met.

—

Minhyung froze.

Because standing barely twenty paces away was the largest wolf he had ever laid eyes upon.

A hunking mass of white fur stared back at him with all the intensity of a creature born from legends. Its paws were the size of dinner plates, its sharp teeth capable of crushing bone, and its broad shoulders alone were enough to make lesser men soil themselves.

Yet inexplicably, the beast was holding flowers.

Minhyung blinked. The beast tilted his head and seemed to mirror his blinking.

For the briefest of moments, Minhyung simply stared, but years of training took over.

With a click, twin pistols appeared in his hands in one fluid motion.

The wolf yelped.

"HUNTER!"

Bang! Bang!

The gunshots cracked through the woods like thunder, sending birds scattering from the trees and fish leaping from the stream in alarm. 

Yet the bullets found nothing but air. The wolf had already vanished from where he had stood, his massive body moving with startling speed as instinct overrode thought.

Not a second later, his tail puffed up in panic as he hurled himself behind the nearest tree with all the grace and dignity of a frightened rabbit.

Minhyung blinked.

Did the wolf just…scream? And if he wasn't mistaken, that sound had been laced with terror.

Slowly, cautiously, he kept one pistol raised as a white head timidly peeked around the trunk.

They stared at one another. Minhyung narrowed his eyes. The wolf narrowed his.

Then, breaking eye contact, the beast looked downward. Still dangling awkwardly from one enormous paw was an entire line of flower crowns.

Its ears flattened at once, tail drooping miserably behind it. 

Minhyung watched in bewilderment as the giant creature pouted (?) at the woven daisies, looking every bit like someone who had just remembered an anniversary he'd forgotten.

"Oh. I forgot."

The wolf sounded devastated.

Forgot what?

Before Minhyung could begin to comprehend what was happening, the enormous beast abruptly flung several objects in his direction.

Instinct screamed at him to duck, and he obeyed. Whatever had been thrown sailed harmlessly over his shoulder, but something light settled atop his head.

Minhyung immediately reached upward and removed it, only to stare in mounting disbelief at the petals woven delicately together with stems and forget-me-nots.

A flower crown.

Silence descended upon the clearing.

The stream babbled sover smooth stones nearby, and somewhere overhead, a butterfly drifted lazily between them, blissfully unconcerned with the complete collapse of reason taking place beneath its wings.

Neither being moved.

Then, with all the dignity of a condemned man awaiting execution, the giant wolf covered his face with both paws and squeaked out "PEACE OFFERING!".

And before Minhyung could utter a single word, the Beast of the Prophecy spun around and fled headlong into the underbrush, the branches snapping in his wake.

A second later came the unmistakable sound of something very large running directly into a tree, yelping, and then rustling that gradually faded into the distance.

Minhyung remained rooted to the clearing, one pistol hanging loosely in his hand and a flower crown clasped between his fingers. Utterly speechless.

After a long moment, he touched the loose petals that had settled atop his hood.

Minhyung looked in the direction the wolf had vanished, then down at the basket hanging from his arm, and then back toward the woods again.

"...What?"

This was in no tale he had ever heard. No lesson Sanghyeok had ever taught him.

And certainly no hunter's manual in existence had prepared him for the possibility that the Big Bad Wolf might throw flowers at him and escape in embarrassment.

Far away, hidden behind several bushes and a considerable amount of shame, Geonwoo had buried his face into the dirt like an ostrich.

"I'M NEVER GOING OUTSIDE AGAIN!"

From atop a fallen log, Wooje quacked loudly in clear mirth. Nearby, Hwanjoong slowly surfaced from his pond, blinking.

"...Did you just throw flowers at the hunter?"

Geonwoo groaned into the earth.

"He was pretty okay, I panicked! I know. I know he shot at him! But! I don’t know, oh…”

Hwanjoong exchanged a long, deeply tired look with the duck, the kind of look that suggested they had both seen enough of this situation.

Somewhere, unseen by all of them - and frankly wishing it could remain that way - fate itself let out a long, very aggrieved sigh and began flipping through its own notes in increasing distress.

The Big Bad Wolf had just thrown a flower crown at Red Riding Hood.

Fate paused.

Closed the book.

Opened it again.

“…Right,” it muttered.

Then, in the tone of something that had completely lost control of its own narrative: 

“Guess we’re doing this now.”

Act II: The World's Worst Wolf

The strangest thing about the encounter, Minhyung would later decide, was not that the wolf had spoken, nor that it had screamed in sheer panic when he had fired upon it. 

Not even the fact that the Beast of the Prophecy had hurled a flower crown at him and promptly fled into the woods with its tail tucked between his legs.

Oh no, the strangest thing was that he couldn't stop thinking about how strangely cute the whole encounter had been.

For days afterward, while preparing tea in Sanghyeok's cottage, while polishing his pistols beside the hearth, and even while dismantling training dummies in the clearing behind the house, his thoughts would inevitably wander back to the enormous white wolf.

The wolf, who acted like being shot at was a death sentence, and he had far more pressing social obligations to fulfil with the Red Riding Hood.

There had been no malice in those golden eyes. None of the hunger or hatred he was warned about, but rather clear embarrassment and panic. And, somehow, genuine concern that his peace offering had been delayed.

Minhyung had absolutely no idea what to make of that.

Which was precisely why, much to his own irritation, he found himself retracing the path towards the stream several days later.

He was merely curious. Professionally curious. After all, one did not simply encounter a giant talking wolf with severe social anxiety and leave such matters unexplored.

Minhyung wanted answers.

The fact that he had spent twenty whole minutes arranging his hair beneath his hood before leaving, buffing his leather coat to wear, and ensuring that the flower crown - purely for investigative purposes - rested safely inside his basket, was entirely irrelevant.

And if Sanghyeok had happened to look up from his book and smile knowingly into his tea as Minhyung left the cottage that morning, well.

That was entirely his 'grandmother''s problem.

Geonwoo, meanwhile, had made a firm decision: he would never ever leave his den again.

Scratch that - he would also avoid the clover fields, the stream, and, upon further reflection, any location in the forest that could contain handsome hunters carrying firearms.

Which was precisely why he immediately turned to flee when he smelled a human again.

The scent came first, drifting through the wind like an unwelcome memory: gunpowder sharp enough to sting the nose, polished leather, iron, and beneath it all, something sweet. Forbidden food.

His ears snapped upright at once.

With the unfortunate coordination of a startled rabbit, Geonwoo scrambled up the nearest tree just as footsteps entered the clearing below.

And there he was. The red cloak, as vibrant as the nightmares of this hunter that haunted his sleep

The hunter.

Except, he seemed calmer as compared to their last brief encounter.

His expression remained composed, guarded as ever, but there was much less lethality from before. 

Instead, his gaze roamed with measured curiosity, almost as though he were searching. And resting upon his head, slightly askew but unmistakable, sat the flower crown.

Geonwoo stopped breathing entirely.

The daisies had wilted at the edges, but the structure remained intact, if not reinforced even, as though someone had taken the time to fix what Geonwoo had ruined in his panic.

Pretty flowers! His tail began to wag in happiness before his mind could object.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A catastrophic mistake, for Minhyung’s eyes lifted instantly to hone in on the poorly disguised wolf.

Golden met gold, as Geonwoo realised, far too late, that he had just revealed his position in the least subtle possible manner.

Oh no. Oh no no no-

The hunter began walking toward the tree in quick strides.

Oh no.

Before Geonwoo could properly panic, his paw slipped. The branch beneath him cracked with an alarming snap. And the world, as it turned out, had no intention of slowing down for dramatic tension.

With a very undignified yelp, the enormous white wolf fell directly out of the tree and landed squarely on Lee Minhyung. There was a sound - half of impact, half of shock - as both of them hit the ground in a chaotic explosion of leaves, dust, and startled birds fleeing the scene.

The poor hunter wheezed at the impact and the crushing weight.

"Heavy..."

The wolf could only stare down at the human pinned beneath him, eyes widening in error.

“Sorry!”

The word came out as a strangled yip before he practically launched himself backward, scrambling off Minhyung so fast he nearly dislocated his own dignity.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He rolled sideways in a panic so exaggerated that the man barely had time to push himself up before the wolf had flopped flat onto the ground again, as though attempting to play dead.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, the hunter laughed.

It began as a breath caught between disbelief and relief - soft and almost reluctant - before it broke open into something fuller. The hunter sounded as though he could not decide whether the world had gone mad or finally made sense in the most inconvenient way possible.

Geonwoo just froze there, as the sound spread through the clearing like light. He studied the face of this hunter, unarmed in a way that made it impossible to look away from. A presence that did not demand attention so much as invite it.

A warmth, unfamiliar and sudden, blooming somewhere deep beneath his chest, as though something long dormant had been touched and, in being touched, had remembered how to exist.

It was like dappled sunlight through leaves, like warmth seeping through fur on a cold morning. Like being called without being summoned.

Minhyung’s laughter lingered in the air long after it should have faded, and Geonwoo found, with quiet astonishment, that he did not want it to stop.

He did not know what to do with that feeling, but he knew with certainty that it was true.

“...You’re weird,” Minhyung said at last, as he remained his exposure.

Geonwoo’s ears flattened at that. His tail, which had been betraying him moments earlier, wagged even harder out of sheer confusion, sending small tremors through the grass and scattering a few startled birds from nearby branches.

“I-sorry?” he muttered instinctively.

Minhyung only shook his head, still smiling faintly as he sat up fully.

Introductions came shortly afterward.

“Kim Geonwoo,” the wolf said at last, sitting awkwardly with far too much caution for something his size.

“Lee Minhyung,” came the reply, equally measured.

The strange wolf, and the stranger human. 

A duo that would become way better friends than expected.

After that, they began meeting regularly, first by coincidence, then by habit, and eventually by expectation.

Minhyung would bring pastries from the village, while Geonwoo would prepare flowers. When Minhyung taught him card games, Geonwoo showed him hidden meadows and secret springs known only to the creatures of the forest.

He introduced Minhyung to Wooje, who took one look at the human and decided immediately that Minhyung was ‘acceptable’. Which, according to Hwanjoong, was the highest praise the duck had ever bestowed upon anyone.

And slowly, Minhyung learned that Kim Geonwoo was perhaps the gentlest creature alive. He would let birds built nests upon him, and rabbits climbed onto his stomach while he napped.

Once, Minhyung found him carrying an injured hedgehog in his mouth with all the care of a mother carrying her child. Another time, he'd discovered Geonwoo sitting in the rain because a family of sparrows had chosen his head as shelter and he didn't want to disturb them.

“You know,” Minhyung said one afternoon, “you’re a terrible wolf.”

Geonwoo made a half-hearted attempt to swat him with a paw, more of a symbolic protest than an actual strike.

Minhyung simply leaned out of reach and continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

“You don’t hunt. You don’t know how to howl. You cry when your cat friend got stuck in a bush like she was dying. Are you perhaps a dog?”

Geonwoo shot him a glare sharp enough to split wood and bared his teeth in offended dignity, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the fact that he was currently lying on his stomach in a field of flowers, letting Minhyung rub his belly.

Minhyung, for his part, only looked back at him with mild curiosity. When Geonwoo didn’t respond, he stopped patting him, to the wolf's protesting whines.

“Why do I even need to hunt this Red Riding Hood anyway?”

“Because you’re a wolf,” Minhyung replied at once, as if it were a truth carved into the bones of the world itself. A wheel of fate that was decided, long before either of them had ever been given a say in it.

Geonwoo huffed, though there was no real heat behind it. His tail flicked once against the grass, more restless than irritated.

“Then Minhyung,” he said after a moment, quieter now, “do you need to hunt wolves?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Geonwoo said, a note of finality in his tone, though his voice softened at the edges. “But humour me this. What if it’s only a prophecy because people keep acting like it has to be? Wolves believe they must be monsters, hunters believe they must strike first, and Red Riding Hood just keeps walking into the story because everyone expects them to-”

He paused, ears tilting slightly as though trying to catch his own thoughts before they scattered.

“Maybe it’s not set in stone,” Geonwoo continued more gently, “maybe it only stays true if you keep choosing to believe it is. But you still choose what you do, that’s what matters. I believe in this enough.”

Minhyung's gaze drifted, not to Geonwoo, but somewhere past him, into the shifting light where the forest blurred between what was written and what was lived. When he finally spoke, his voice had softened.

“…Huh.”

Geonwoo nodded once, satisfied, as though the matter had been settled in full and the world had no further right to argue. It offered instead the sight of grass bending in the wind, and the cacophony of birds calling to each other.

The slow, inevitable passing of time that did not care what either of them wanted.

Minhyung’s hand rested loosely at his side, near where steel, oath, and habit sat like an old bruise he never quite stopped carrying.

“Do you have a plan?” he asked at last, almost too casually. Geonwoo’s ears lowered before he even answered.

“Mm. Avoid Red Riding Hood for as long as I can. And hope you don’t decide to slit my throat.”

At the name, something in Geonwoo’s expression tightened - not fear exactly, but worry, like the reality of this talet settling deeper into his bones and brains.

“I’m supposed to eat them,” Geonwoo said more quietly, almost to himself. Then he huffed, a humourless little breath. “But I don’t think I could even if I tried. Someone would have to force-feed me prophecy at this point.”

Minhyung’s fingers curled slightly.

“What if you ran?” he asked.

It came softer than the question deserved. Not tactical. Not logical. Something closer to hope, poorly disguised as practicality. It was a question that sounded like it wanted a different ending.

Geonwoo shook his head.

“No. I can’t leave yet,” he said, as if he had repeated this often enough for it to stop sounding like a decision and start sounding like truth. “If I run, I’ll always be the wolf who ran from the story.”

"You-"

“I need to face them. The hunter and Red Riding Hood. If I stand my ground…then maybe it stops being something that controls me. Maybe then they don’t have to die just because the tale says they should.”

His voice faltered at the edge of that thought, but he pushed through it anyway.

“Maybe none of us do.”

Minhyung was still looking at him.

But his gaze had changed. If Geonwoo had to pinpoint it, it was almost wistful, as though he too was staring at a future he wasn’t allowed to reach for, one where he didn't have to clash with his best friend.

Geonwoo hated that look. It made his chest feel too full of something he didn’t have a name for.

He exhaled, sharper than intended, as if to shake it off.

Then, needing something - anything - to ground himself, he lifted a paw in a small, dismissive gesture.

But it caught on Minhyung’s crimson cloak.

The world tipped.

“-Ah-!”

Geonwoo yelped as balance and dignity and all remaining authority over his own body gave up at once, and he went tumbling forward in a very unceremonious rush of fur, panic, and unfortunate inevitability-

Straight into the stream.